


you are not me

by china_shop



Series: Mission Impossible series [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-24
Updated: 2010-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Introduction to the Mountie Uniform 101</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are not me

Monday morning, Ray listened impatiently through forty minutes of Introduction to the Mountie Uniform 101, and only learned three things:   


> 1\. The belt was called a Sam Browne ("with an 'e'"), not a Sam Round like he'd thought. Neither made any sense, so who cared?
> 
> b. He looked pretty good in red. Not as good as-- the guy he was now, of course, but up there with, say, Turnbull. This was something of a shock: it'd been years since he'd worn a uniform, and that one had been crappy and polyester. He hadn't thought the neated up, epaulettes-and-brass-buttons look would work for him, but it did. Despite this, he still felt self-conscious, like he was in fancy dress.
> 
> 3\. He wasn't allowed to carry a gun.

  
"What the hell are you talking about?" he yelled.

The Mountie Uniform tour guide guy frowned and said, "I was under the impression you'd been fully briefly, detective. Should I arrange a conference call with the real Constable--?"

"Fuck!" Ray glared at him for a long angry minute. Unarmed law enforcement in Chicago. Bright red uniform. Big hat. This was fucking suicide. "Fine," he ground out. "But I wear my own underwear--" He dropped the starched white boxers onto the floor and kicked them viciously under the bed. "--and I am not licking _anything_. Got me?"

The guy just rolled his eyes, gathered his stuff, and took off, leaving Ray staring at himself in the mirror. He straightened his lanyard. "Benton Fraser, this is your life. Your other life. The one you didn't want."

He smoothed his newly-darkened hair, put on his hat, took one last look at the thesaurus he'd been studying all night, and went to work.


End file.
